Sorry for the gap between posts but I have been flat on my back with a horrible flu. It started as a head cold that went to my chest and it seemed determined to stay there for as long as possible. I get the feeling this is another new “normal” going forward - when I get sick with early onset alzheimer’s on board the result is that I get really sick.
I ended up in bed for a fortnight and I lost my compass for a few days. I stopped holding onto Gods hand because I was feeling very sorry for myself. Please note that I said I let go of His hand and not the other way around. I don’t actually believe Gods hand ever moves an inch. He’s always there patiently waiting for us to reconnect.
I found myself alone, exhausted and sore all over - there was no position in bed that gave me comfort. More than that my soul was longing for Lily to tell me it was all going to be ok but she seemed subdued. All I needed to do was ask for her help and yet it took me days until I did just that. The minute I put my hand out again for reassurance He was there and His big hand held my small one with such tenderness that it broke my heart.
It got me thinking about the furrows we leave in our wake while here on planet earth. A furrow is the impression left by a cart wheel or tire track in the mud. Some of our furrows are well worn and so it’s easy to go along with the indentations left from previous trips along the same road. Starting a new furrow however is much harder - you may encounter obstacles like difficult terrain, vegetation or rocks.
My life’s journey has brought me to this moment in time right now. The various paths I chose to get to today were mainly my own choices. Some roads are chosen for us when we are children and so we have little say in their ultimate outcome. However, at some point in our lives we begin to make our own choices, we decide which route we want to explore and why.
It’s so easy to go along with the herds and take the easier roads. I spent years walking down well furrowed paths that ended up taking me around in circles. I also found myself on other people’s journeys with no idea of how I got there until it was almost too late. I even took a number of frankly dangerous shortcuts which promised a quick passage to somewhere enticing but which in reality were dead ends.
Lily and I are on a brand-new path and so it’s easy to get stuck and disoriented. Along the way there is still much to see, to learn and to appreciate. There will always be misleading routes out there but if I continue to hold tightly onto my creator’s hand, He has promised to show me the most direct path home.
This is one of my favourite poems by Robert Frost which sums up that feeling perfectly in a few short verses.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.